Author

Lindsey Brigham Knott

Lindsey Knott relishes the chance to learn literature, composition, rhetoric, and logic alongside her students at a classical school in her North Florida hometown. She and her husband Alex keep a home filled with books, instruments, and good company.

Lindsey Brigham Knott May 26, 2020

There come times when a thing you’ve known time out of memory suddenly opens before you, blossoms into beauty where you’d never known to seek it. These are times of transfiguration, and in their witness to both the humble hiddenness of beauty and the deep meaningfulness of reality, they refresh our faith in a world where “being indoors each one dwells” and in a Christ who “plays in ten thousand places,” as Hopkins exulted. 

The other day I read a passage that opened one of these times for me. It had to do with, of all things, parts of speech. Here it is:

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Lindsey Brigham Knott May 14, 2020

I read yesterday a brief review of a recently-published history of earth architecture, and it beckoned my thoughts down a number of less-traveled paths. The term “earth architecture” describes buildings made of dirt, in various forms or mixtures: adobe from Southwestern clay, for instance, or cob from mixed mud and straw in Britain, or even the “soddies” of Laura Ingalls Wilder fame.

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Apr 18, 2020

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an international panic, it was a personal crisis, it was a freak of nature, it was a governmental conspiracy, it was the death-blow to globalism, it was the death-blow to localism, it was an extended vacation, it was an interminable grounding, we we were in it together, we could kill each other coughing, we had unbroken family time, we had cordoned corners for everyone’s Zoom meetings, we were riding bikes and planting gardens and doing home projects, we were hoarding beans and hand sanitizer and toilet paper, we were all going to

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Mar 31, 2020

Among the greatest gifts of words is their power to transfigure our experience, to lift the veil upon the beams of glory that pulse within our tawdry-seeming tasks. When our eyes are swathed in weariness, in hopelessness, in the sheer blankness borne of repetition, a word fitly spoken can cut through all this and set our gaze again upon the blaze in the burning bush of the day-to-day. 

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Mar 13, 2020

In a recent blog post, Joshua Gibbs suggests that “What the Coronavirus Means for Classical Schools” is nothing less than a test of their true worth. That test lies in schools' potential temporary transition to remote learning. If students can receive remotely everything which their teachers would have sought to give them in class, then, Mr. Gibbs suggests, the school may not be offering the education it ought to.

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Feb 25, 2020

It is a mark of education to abhor the cliché. The educated person, the cultured person, feels repulsed by the outworn attempts at expression that pervade kitschy art, radio hits, social exchanges, and campaign-trail patriotism. These all bear witness to George Orwell’s claim in “Politics and the English Language” that “Modern writing at its worst . . .

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Feb 12, 2020

It has become the fashion—almost, even, the mark of humility—to begin any communication of strong emotion with the tag, Words cannot express. As in, words cannot express how grateful I am, how sorry I am, how excited I am; words cannot express my surprise, my delight, my anger; words cannot express how much I regret, or how much I forgive, or how much I love. 

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Jan 30, 2020

I have been learning, this month, to make sourdough bread. Perhaps you’ve eaten it. I doubt, though, you know what it takes to bake it; I, at least, did not. 

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Dec 31, 2019

December twenty-eighth is, in the liturgy of the church, the Feast of the Holy Innocents, the day of remembrance for the multitude of children—“all that were in Bethlehem, and in all the coasts thereof, from two years old and under”—who were slaughtered by King Herod as he sought to squelch the rumored threat of a newborn King. 

The Book of Common Prayer offers a prayer for this day: 

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Lindsey Brigham Knott Dec 23, 2019

Three weeks of another year’s Advent are past; the one that’s left is just a few days long—Christmas Day itself peeks ‘round the corner. The three weeks behind me have already been framed and filled and formed by a dozen dear traditions, from sacred to silly; the few days ahead hold the most cherished, even holy, traditions of all. 

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